


Hobgoblin Holiday Cheer

by sylviarachel



Category: You Could Make a Life Series - Taylor Fitzpatrick
Genre: Chanukah, Established Relationship, Interfaith Family, M/M, YCMAL Holiday Exchange
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:53:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28367946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sylviarachel/pseuds/sylviarachel
Summary: Chanukah isn’t the Jewish Christmas, but Gabe does enjoy when the two holidays coincide, because the Canucks will sometimes get enough of a break over Christmas that when Chanukah overlaps it, he and Stephen can be home for Christmas with the Petersens and also for the Markson party. This year, that’s not gonna happen. This year, Chanukah is in early December and the Canucks’ schedule is all on the West Coast. Gabe has missed a lot of family holiday stuff over the years. He’s missed a lot of Chanukah parties. Heusuallymisses the Chanukah party. It’sfine.
Relationships: Gabriel Markson/Stephen Petersen
Comments: 17
Kudos: 28





	Hobgoblin Holiday Cheer

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rose_indigo_and_tom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rose_indigo_and_tom/gifts).



> Written for [rose_indigo_and_tom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rose_indigo_and_tom/profile) as part of the 2020 YCMAL Holiday Exchange, for the prompt “Gabe + Stephen celebrate each other's winter holidays together” (sorry that I only got one holiday in there!) Apologies for Jared infiltrating your Gabe/Stephen fic. He insisted.
> 
> Thanks to [turifer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/turifer/profile) for beta reading and suggestions!

Gabe is tired of explaining to people that no, Chanukah isn’t the Jewish Christmas, it’s not a major holiday where he would think about asking for time off, blah, blah, blah. He doesn’t  _ care _ if it’s a major holiday, is the thing—that’s not the  _ point.  _ It’s still one of his favourites. What’s not to like? It’s got great food and setting things on fire and singing and gambling and sometimes presents. It’s about lighting candles and eating delicious fried things at literally the coldest and darkest time of year (shut up, Jake). 

But also … look, literally the best thing about Chanukah is that you don’t have to take any of it too  _ seriously _ , so everybody can just … have fun.

Fun, like the Markson Mishpocha Chanukah Bash. Which is of course a completely inaccurate name for it, because most of the “family” that usually comes to it is not technically family at all, but whatever. Once again, Gabe really does not care, because once again: Fun.

Chanukah isn’t the Jewish Christmas, but Gabe does enjoy when the two holidays coincide, because the Canucks will sometimes get enough of a break over Christmas that when Chanukah overlaps it, he and Stephen can be home for Christmas with the Petersens and also for the Markson party.

This year, that’s not gonna happen. This year, Chanukah is in early December and the Canucks’ schedule is all on the West Coast. But look, Gabe is happy that his December includes a lot of home games. He’s happy he’ll be spending most of December in the same time zone as Stephen.

And anyway, if they did go to Toronto, the parents would just use the opportunity to needle him and Stephen about getting married, and like, nobody needs that.

Gabe has missed a lot of family holiday stuff over the years, including much more important things like first seder at Bubbie and Zaydie’s and second seder at Grandma Marlene’s. He’s missed a lot of Chanukah parties. He  _ usually _ misses the Chanukah party. It’s  _ fine. _

*

“What’s up with you?” Stephen says, looking down at Gabe over his glasses. “You’re all … mopey.”

Gabe sits up, indignant. “I’m not  _ mopey _ .”

“Okay, Gabriel,” says Stephen, in his judgiest voice. He turns a page.

“Okay,  _ Steve _ ,” says Gabe.

He makes an effort to be more cheerful.

*

Gabe misses an easy shot in practice and swears loudly at himself.

“Whoa, Marksy,” says Brouillard, frowning behind his mask. “You need a minute, bro?”

_ Fuck off, asshole _ , Gabe manages not to say, because obviously he doesn’t want to be an  _ actual _ asshole. 

“No, I’m good,” he says instead. “Sorry, Boomer. I’m good.”

He catches Jared and Dima looking at him and each other, all  _ Wow, what crawled up his ass _ , and scowls at them.

… in retrospect, maybe not the smartest approach he could’ve taken. 

*

Gabe’s a glutton for punishment, apparently, because the next time he talks to his mom, he allows himself to be drawn into December Discourse—no, she’s right about the Canucks’ schedule, there’s no way he and Stephen are going to make it back to Toronto at any point that month, yes, it sucks, no, he doesn’t need her to send him a box of candles, he is a grown man and there are other Jews in Vancouver, he can get his own, yes, he does have gift ideas for Stephen, yes, he will send her a list—and the time after that, he  _ brings it up himself _ .

“You guys doing the big party this year?” he asks, and then does a mental facepalm.

“Well, sure,” says his mom. “Why wouldn’t we?”

“Cool,” says Gabe, glumly.

“Hang on, sweetheart, Dad wants to talk to you.”

“Mom—”

“Hey, bud,” says Gabe’s dad on the other end of the phone. “Line’s really clicking, huh?”

*

“My parents are being weird,” he complains to Stephen, after his dad hangs up.

“Hmmm?” Stephen says vaguely, not looking up from whatever he’s doing on his own phone.

Gabe throws a throw pillow at his head. Stephen looks up now, the better to show Gabe his offended face. “What was that for?”

“I  _ said _ , my parents are being weird.”

“ _ You’re _ weird,” says Stephen. He goes back to his phone, poking at it with a little frown. 

“Ugh,” says Gabe, and gets up to go get an ice pack for his shoulder.

*

“I didn’t know you were Jewish,” Jared says. “That’s cool.” His tone says  _ I’m trying really hard to be casual but actually feeling super awkward about this for some reason _ —in fact, it kind of reminds Gabe of the incredibly tense period when he and Jared each thought the other one was homophobic instead of queer.

“I mean, it’s not a huge deal,” says Gabe. “Jews are just regular people, dude.”

“Duh.” Jared rolls his eyes and makes a  _ pshhh _ noise, and just like that, the awkward is gone. “It’s just, you know. It’s cool to know that about you.”

He’s saying more than the words sound like, obviously, but it’s hopefully not obvious to anyone besides Gabe.

“Wait,” says Gabe, pausing with his second sock half taped. “How did you even know that? Please tell me you haven’t been watching those horrendous holiday videos PR made us do.”

(One year, there was a Jewish intern working on the Canucks social media team, and she and Gabe had been forced—well, bribed with boxes of frozen Gryfe’s bagels—to play dreidel on camera and discuss “healthy” latke recipes until Gabe snapped and revealed his real opinion of “healthy” latkes. Stephen still hasn’t stopped laughing about the result.)

“What? No, ew,” says Jared, rolling his eyes. But he looks awkward and caught out again, which … makes no sense at all. After a weirdly long pause, he admits, “Uh, Stephen told me.”

And look, Gabe likes that his liney and his boyfriend get along? But talking about him behind his back was definitely not the kind of  _ getting along _ he had in mind.

Jared’s doing that blotchy blushing thing he does, and Gabe is about to start interrogating him about this back-channel conversation he’s apparently having with Stephen when Dima thumps him on the shoulder and says, “Hey! Practice is starting! Why you’re half naked!” and shit, the three of them are the only ones left in the locker room.

*

The Canucks beat the Sharks, then the Golden Seals, then the Kings in California, and they lose to the Caps at home, and when Gabe kicks off his boots in his own front hall after their next game, an unnecessarily chippy one-goal victory over the Barons, he finds that Stephen has set up the chanukiah on the coffee table, with one candle stuck in and another one for the shamash and a brand-new box of matches ready to go.

“Um,” he says.

“Hey,” says Stephen, reeling him in for a kiss. “Nice goal in the second.” He puts on his hockey-bro-iest voice and continues, “We gonna light this thing or what?”

Gabe lights the thing, and Stephen’s attempt to pronounce the word  _ shehecheyanu  _ is as hilariously bad as ever, but Gabe doesn’t laugh.

He does, however, wonder what Stephen is up to, because this whole thing is very sweet and that is … not Stephen’s usual M.O. 

*

“Stephen’s being weird,” Gabe complains to Jared and Dima over lunch the next day. 

Jared looks wary. Jared often looks wary, though, so maybe it doesn’t mean anything.

“Stephen always weird,” says Dima dismissively. He takes a huge bite of his huge sandwich.

“Weird how?” asks Jared.

“Chanukah started last night,” Gabe says, “and I got home really late, and he’d set up my chanukiah—you know, Chanukah menorah?” he elaborates, at Jared’s inquiring look. “And reminded me to light the first candle.” 

“Uh,” says Jared. “That … sounds nice?”

“ _ Exactly _ ,” Gabe agrees, and viciously stabs his fork into a chunk of avocado. “It was really nice, so now I’m wondering if he’s … you know. Up to something.”

“Hobgoblins can be nice occasionally,” Jared says, a little defensive. Gabe has never looked up the dictionary definition of  _ hobgoblin _ , but it’s a term Jared uses to describe both himself and Stephen, so Gabe feels like he has a pretty good idea. “It doesn’t necessarily mean we’re up to something.”

_ Doesn’t necessarily mean _ , Gabe can’t help noticing, is not the same as  _ doesn’t mean. _

“I don’t understand you,” says Dima. He’s shaking his head. “Stephen leave dirty dishes, you complain. Stephen does nice thing, you complain. Stephen—”

“I’m not  _ complaining _ ,” Gabe protests. “I just—”

“You literally are,” says Jared, which ... okay, fair. “And like, that’s cool? Just, you know, lineys should be honest with each other about shit.”

Dima hoots with laughter and throws a french fry across the table at Jared’s head, and Jared whisper-shouts, “What are you,  _ five _ ?” and Gabe is distracted from worrying about Stephen’s weirdness by worrying that they’re going to get thrown out of this diner.

*

Gabe hasn’t mentioned the party to his parents again, which is normal, but his mom also hasn’t mentioned it to him, which is … he’s getting tired of the word  _ weird _ , but that’s what it is, it’s weird.

But also he hasn’t really had much time or mental energy to devote to thinking about it, because, well, he’s been kind of busy  _ doing his job _ . The job he’s paid a truly stupid amount of money to do.

So even though he knew that Stephen was being weird, and that his parents were being weird, and, hell, his  _ lineys _ were being weird … he’s still in complete and total shock when he opens the front door of his house on the seventh night of Chanukah.

Stephen had a work crisis right after lunch, and sent Gabe out to run all the errands he was supposed to run himself, and now Gabe is about ninety percent sure that the work crisis was completely imaginary, and possibly the errands too, because—

Something is going on. Something is happening in Gabe’s house right now.

Gabe and Stephen’s front hall is full of unfamiliar shoes, and there are jackets hanging in their coat closet that don’t belong to either of them, and Gabe can hear voices and laughter coming from his kitchen, and the whole house smells  _ amazing _ , and—

“Stephen?” Gabe calls, just in case, because what if the Canucks WAGs have invaded the house and tied him to a chair in the kitchen, or something? 

“Gabriel!” Miriam Markson appears—like,  _ materializes _ —in the kitchen doorway, wearing an absolutely horrifying apron that says  _ Oy to the World _ across the front and holding a roll of paper towels. “Oh, look at you, my handsome boy!”

“ _ Mom _ ,” says Gabe, stunned.

He’s still stunned when she flings her arms around him, still stunned when first his dad and then four Petersens who  _ do not live here _ follow her out of the kitchen and add themselves to the hug. But he doesn’t start actually  _ crying _ until the next wave of people boils out into the living room and front hall: his Bubbie and Zaydie, Grandma Marlene, Auntie Deb and Uncle Mark, Gabe’s cousin Josh and his wife, and holy shit, are Josh and Shira  _ having a baby _ ?

“Are you surprised? Did we surprise you?” Beth demands.

“Oh, Gabey, don’t cry!” says Bubbie, hugging him very hard around the lower ribs.

It’s only then that Stephen sidles out of the kitchen, looking at Gabe like he can’t decide if he’s about to be hugged or hip-checked into next week. Gabe stares at him over his grandmother’s head, knowing his face is blotchy and his eyes are red and his nose is running, and tries to convey  _ I love you so much  _ and also _ what the fuck is happening right now _ without actually opening his mouth.

The front door opens behind him, letting in the damp and chilly air of a Vancouver December that will never, no matter how long Gabe lives here, actually feel like winter, along with heavy footsteps and voices—the unmistakable soundscape of of loud hockey bros trying to be quiet and failing  _ epically _ .

“Oh shit, is Marksy crying?” someone says.

“Don’t swear in front of his grandma, asshole!” someone else whisper-shouts, followed by the sound of large men jostling each other like little kids.

Gabe sighs, gives Bubbie one last squeeze, then lets go and turns around. 

“Um,” says Jared, who’s standing between Dima and Boomer, holding a massive casserole dish wrapped in tea towels. “Surprise?”

“Surprise!” Dima yells, like he considers it his job to make up for Jared’s lack of enthusiasm. 

“If that’s happy crying, you’re welcome,” says Jared, “and if you’re super mad about this, it was all Stephen’s— _ ow! _ ”

He and Dima, who just elbowed him, glare at each other. 

Gabe laughs, and blinks furiously, and is beyond grateful when Grandma Marlene hands him a kleenex she manifested from somewhere so he can wipe his nose on something less gross than the sleeve of his fleece zip-up.

“I’m not mad,” he says. 

Dima grins. “Awesome,” he says to Gabe, and back over his shoulder, “Okay! Come in now!”

Behind Gabe’s lineys, more Canucks and Canuck-adjacent people crowd up the walkway from the street, becoming recognizable as they come in range of the porch lights.

“Hey, Gabe,” says Jared, stepping to one side to get out of their way. “I made this for you? Stephen sent me the recipe. It’s like, pot roast?”

He holds out the casserole dish, and Gabe is just reaching for it when Stephen dodges in front of him and grabs it out of Jared’s hands.

“Miriam!” he bellows. “The brisket’s here! Come inspect it!”

There’s a reverent silence as Gabe’s mom shoulders her way through the crowd, because holy shit,  _ some random dude has tried to make Miriam Markson’s brisket? _

Gabe’s mom lifts the lid of the casserole dish, and the reverent silence is broken by a combination of pleased inhales, assessing  _ oooooo _ s, and noises of grudging surprise. The smell hits Gabe’s back-brain like a ton of … not bricks, but childhood memories—it’s not the  _ same _ as Mom’s legendary brisket, nothing could be, but it does smell pretty fucking good.

“Well, look at that,” says Gabe’s mom, in an admiring tone. “If this tastes as good as it smells, Stephen, you might just win that bet with Seth.”

She reaches up to pat Stephen’s cheek, and then, to Gabe’s complete mortification, his ass as he turns to carry the brisket and his poorly concealed gloating face off to the kitchen. 

“Wait, what?!” says Jared. “Nobody told me there was a  _ bet _ .”

“Oh, and you must be Jared!” Gabe’s mom exclaims, advancing on Gabe’s defenceless liney with outstretched arms. Gabe would try to discourage her, but …

Nah, this is funnier.

Jared bravely endures being hugged by a total stranger—he may be a hobgoblin, but he’s a polite one—but his relief when Miriam lets go of him is hilariously obvious.

“So,” she says, holding him at arms’ length so she can look up at his blotchy-red-embarrassed face, “this is, and I quote, ‘Gabe’s baby liney who can actually cook’!”

“Um,” says Jared, getting (incredibly) even more red and embarrassed-looking. “It’s good to meet you, Mrs Markson.”

“Miriam, please! Lovely to meet you, too, sweetheart.” And then she’s off, morphed right into Party Hostess Miriam, welcoming people into Gabe and Stephen’s house (Stephen invited all these people to their house?!) and telling them where to put their coats.

Gabe’s not mad—he’s definitely not mad—but he does feel like he might need to be by himself for a little while.

*

“Good party?” Stephen asks, sounding weirdly shy.

The people are all gone—Jared even bullied their teammates into cleaning up the kitchen before they went home, insisting that the Marksons and Petersens had not flown all the way from Toronto and Montreal just to  _ wash dishes _ , his parents raised him better than that,  _ yes  _ Dmitry that means you too, don’t be an asshole—and the house still smells like latkes and brisket and frying donuts and oranges, and Gabe is  _ exhausted _ , but—

“Yeah, babe,” he says, and pulls Stephen close against his side, because when Stephen sounds hesitant like this, it reminds him of the bad old days. “Good party.” 

“You’re not too tired?” says Stephen. “It was hard to find a night that worked, and I wasn’t sure—”

“Stephen,” Gabe says, firm. “Did you really fly our whole family out here and put them up in Airbnbs and let my mom host a party in our house just because you thought I was bummed about her having the party without me?”

“You  _ were _ bummed about it,” Stephen insists, and … well, he’s not wrong. “And anyway, it’s your money, Mr ‘hey it’s 53 for the Canucks.’”

“It’s our money.” But Gabe’s not in the mood to have this argument again, and Stephen just leaned in and nipped his earlobe, which... 

“It was very sweet,” Gabe says. “ _ You _ are very sweet, and I love you.”

Stephen makes a disgusted face. Gabe laughs at him.

“You love me, don’t front,” he says, and laughs again at Stephen’s put-upon sigh. “Also, I can’t believe you and my dad were making  _ bets _ on my  _ liney _ .”

“ _ I  _ can’t believe that  _ child _ can cook better than both of us,” says Stephen. “That brisket actually was really good.”

“It was,” Gabe agrees. “Not as good as mom’s, but—”

“Obviously not.” Stephen sounds almost insulted. “But good. And now that I know this interesting fact about young Mr Matheson, I have  _ plans _ .”

“Stephen,” says Gabe, disapproving. 

Stephen snorts.

“We’re meeting the families for brunch at Chambar tomorrow at ten,” he says briskly. “So you should get your beauty sleep, Gabriel.”

Gabe blinks at him. “Chambar?” he repeats. “That place in Kits you went to with Alyssa, that you said should get an award for Most Pretentious Brunch Menu?”

“Yup.” Stephen’s smirk is positively evil. “It’s very trendy, apparently, and the girls wanted to try it, so how could I say no?”

“You just want to have an audience when you make fun of the waffle toppings,” says Gabe. He tries to sound disapproving, but actually he’s feeling warm and fuzzy, like the balance of the universe—or at least, of this relationship—has been restored.

“C’mon, let’s go to bed.” He stands up, pulls Stephen up after him, reels him in by the belt loops for a kiss that turns unexpectedly fierce.

He’s going to have to think of something  _ really great _ for Stephen for Christmas.  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Markson mishpacha Chanukah Bash—“mishpacha” is the Hebrew word for “family.” In English, often means extended family and/or found family.
> 
> first seder at Bubbie and Zaydie’s and second seder at Grandma Marlene’s—families with 2 Jewish parents often make the first Passover seder at one set of grandparents and the second seder at the other set. 
> 
> Bubbie and Zaydie / Grandma Marlene—Lacking canonical info on Gabe’s grandparents, I've made Miriam’s parents, the Goldbergs, Bubbie and Zaydie (Yiddish for Grandma and Grandpa) and Seth’s mom, following naming practice in my own family, Grandma Marlene.
> 
> It’s just, you know. It’s cool to know that about you.—It’s unclear where in Calgary Jared grew up, but having grown up there myself I can attest that in many parts of the city, it is 100% possible to finish high school while knowing zero (0) Jewish people. My childhood neighbourhood had no Jews except my family, and I was the only Jewish kid in my class until high school. 
> 
> healthy latke recipes—The whole point of Chanukah foods is that they’re fried. Frying latkes, then keeping them warm in the oven until they're extra crispy: yes. Baking latkes instead of frying them: OH HELL NO. Also, Gabe and I agree that potato is the optimal latke variety, and latkes made out of zucchini, carrots, or [cauliflower](https://www.myketokitchen.com/keto-recipes/low-carb-latkes-keto-cauliflower-pancakes/) should be yeeted into the sun. It’s only once a year, y’all, just fry the dang potatoes.
> 
> bribed with boxes of frozen Gryfe’s bagels—Gryfe’s bagels are popular in Toronto. The ongoing debate between [What a Bagel](https://www.whatabagel.com) people and [Gryfe’s](http://www.gryfes.com) people pales in comparison to the ongoing fight between Toronto bagel people and Montreal bagel people. My personal favourite bagel source is [St-Viateur](https://www.stviateurbagel.com) in Montreal. Gabe, however, is a loyal born-and-bred Torontonian and has Strong Bagel Opinions, one of which is that Montreal bagels _can never win_.
> 
> Stephen’s attempt to pronounce the word shehecheyanu is as hilarious as ever—On all nights of Chanukah, you say 2 blessings when you light the candles, [which you can find here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nd5Rl0N-ijI). On the first night, you also say [Shehecheyanu](https://reformjudaism.org/beliefs-practices/prayers-blessings/shehecheyanu), which is a bracha (blessing) for experiencing something for the first time / for the first time this year or for making it to a certain point in your life.
> 
> Chanukiah, Chanukah menorah, shamash—A menorah can have either 7 branches (3 on each side) or 9 branches (4 on each side). A 7-branched menorah is a classic Jewish symbol, was part of the regalia of the Temple, and can be used to light the candles for Shabbat on Friday night if you want. A _chanukah_ menorah, or chanukiah, has 9 branches, because you light candles for 8 nights. The shamash is the candle in the middle, used to light all the other candles. It’s often called the “helper candle.”
> 
> Miriam Markson’s brisket—I've been a vegetarian for almost 30 years, and my family never did brisket for Chanukah because SOUR CREAM ON LATKES and also because if you have room for anything else after my mom and I have made you latkes, we have FAILED, but lots of people serve brisket for various Jewish holidays, including Chanukah. Wondering what exactly brisket is? It’s a specific cut of beef (from the chest) and is like pot roast, except delicious. (I don’t eat meat now, but I used to!) If cooked wrong, it can be tough af, too salty, or too dry. Miriam, via Stephen, supervised the meat purchase as well as providing the recipe (after Stephen swore Jared to secrecy).
> 
> Mr ‘hey it’s 53 for the Canucks.’”—is a shout-out to [this Tumblr fic](https://youcouldmakealife.tumblr.com/post/131711003621/gabestephen-grad).
> 
> Chambar—is [a real restaurant in Vancouver](https://www.chambar.com/), suggested by my friend MJ as a trendy, expensive place that both serves brunch and takes reservations, and really does have [a very pretentious brunch menu](https://www.chambar.com/menus/brunch/). If you think Stephen could possibly refrain from ruthlessly mocking a list of waffle toppings that includes “Bacon Caramel” and “White Chocolate Pistachio Rosewater”, then I don’t know what to tell you.
> 
> Finally, [it has recently been established](https://youcouldmakealife.tumblr.com/post/638099271686684672/sometimes-i-think-about-if-stephen-and-erin-were) that Stephen is very anxious for his family not to meet Jared, but I started writing this before that happened 🤷


End file.
